Yes, indeed he did. And with his wife's computer, too, cuz my own is just now barely working.

There I was this morning, posting to Mudcat, when it friz up solid. Well, knowing Windows, I tried to reboot. No luck. So I power cycled.

The Gateway splash screen came up, the XP splashscreen came up, and that was all. They looped.

So after I tried all of my Ubergeek tricks, I reloaded the OS. Now I'm reloading the applications.

Monday I have a service level report due at City Hall, and I just got the data I need late yesterday. Tuesday I have to do a presentation on Vision, Goals, and Planning at the Leadership Institute at Idaho State U.

This is 5903; RR's was 5902. Gaia and Rapaire were both heading for 5900 but split the minute between :25 and :26, thus one of them (Gaia as it happens) got displaced to 5901, while Rapaire the Tofu King made 5900.

'Scuse me if I don't partake of any more Anguish. I have a couple of mome raths that haven't outgrabed in a while and they're getting sorta cranky. Must take them to visit a frumious Bandersnatch tomorrow.

Amos, I tried taking one of your phrases and telling the Babel fish to translate it to Greek (you know, as in "it's Greek to me!"). I don't read Greek, and I suspect what happened is that I copied the Greek words for "I feel lucky" or "submit" instead of the actual words I wanted to translate. And then, you saw it for yourself, it wouldn't display without all of the umlauts and .. thingies substituting for the actual Greek alphabet. So I did the html for the Greek letters. Except in the middle of it is "8" because I couldn't figure out what in hell that letter was supposed to be. Not the same as the β.

Well, mine was from English which I yunderstood to be part of the definition; if you were using phonemes for Portuguese or Italian or, more likely, Denebian, I would think you would say so so folks don't half-bats figgering you out!!

For those of us who are dyslexic (of my variety--there are lots of types), the last few entries are almost incomprehensible. What you have to realize is that our eyes/brains have a habit of occasionally converting regular text into gibberish, so we have to reread what we just read to see what it was really supposed to be. So when you remove a step and make it gibberish without the aid of our brains, and we do our normal step to convert it into something else, we're two removes away from the original and can't make head nor toes of most of it.

I have found my true expression. I must diligently study the Anguish Languish.

"The experiments described above, and hundreds of similar ones conducted by SPAL show that an unbelievable number of English words, regardless of their usual meanings, can be substituted quite satisfactorily for others. When all the words in a given passage of English have been so replaced, the passage keeps its original meaning, but all the words have acquired new ones. A word that has received a new meaning has become a wart, and when all the words in the passage have become warts, the passage is no longer English; it's Anguish.:

She was sitting by the side of road, holding his head in her left hand. Nothing else, just his head. We wondered about it, as well we might, but we kept on going. She wasn't hitchhiking or anything, just sitting there holding his head. We didn't know who either of them were or we might have stopped, but they were strangers. As Tom said, "They're strangers, so let's not stop. Besides, I really don't want to know why she's holding his head in her left hand."

It's bothered me all these years. Why was she holding his head? And why in her left hand? Why not in her right hand? It's not as if it were still attached; she could have played soccer with it. But there she sat, holding his head in her left hand. Perhaps he had been her lover, but he did her wrong. Maybe she had simply wanted to get a head. I don't know. But the image of her sitting by the side of the road, holding his head in her left hand, has stayed with me all these years. I've mentioned it to several people, asking why they thought she might have been holding his head in her left hand, but no one has ever been able to provide an answer. I suppose that it will continue to be one of life's mysteries.

Mom, do you mean John Mayall or me? I've got a couple of big knives . Heck, Mom, I've even got a cavalry saber. But Mom, if I'm performing and I think I'll need a weapon I probably shouldn't be performing where I'm performing.

Then again, I might need it for protection against a feral akordeen or something.

As for being a plagarizing thief of intellectual property -- it's called "the folk tradition." Besides, if them folks that writ it what to complain, they can contact me.

Now, Amos, stop giving Rapaire such a hard time over a little plagiarism. I think it's kind of sweet that he loves his Mother so much that he would be willing to risk being branded an unoriginal, deceitful, conniving, thief of intellectual property just to please her.

And why are there Google advertisements for John Mayall blues CDs at the bottom of my thread. I like John well enough, but he certainly isn't one of my children. Actually, I think it's kind of sexy how he always wears that big Bowie knife while he's performing. Gets your Mom all hot and bothered.

I dedicate this song to all those MOABITES out there that like to do the boogie down, get up, let your pants slip, give us all lip, hip-hoppin', groovin'and movin', righteous revolutions, findin' solutions, bullshitters.

And it goes like this......

Bullshitters Bible

I ain't never met a bullshitter I didn't like'cuz we got to love each other.I never done no whoop ass on my bullshitter friendor else I gonna piss off the Mother.I'd never steal a story from my bullshittin' brother.Never call his shit in front of another.Never regard him slightly, or try to smother.According to my bullshitter's bible.

I'll believe what ever a bullshitter says'cuz we're alike in the bullshitter craze.I won't contradict in front of a childor the child won't learn the bullshitter ways.I'll always allow the time for their plays.I'll smile and laugh when their lost in a daze.I'll righteously shout out the bullshitter praise.According to my bullshitter's bible.

The long-running thread started by Mudcatter "burnstump" requesting information regarding a Gibson J-300 guitar has been allowed to fall below the 24 hour line. After repeatedly being told in various ways that there were very few of the things made (possibly only a single prototype), and that nobody who frequents this forum has ever seen one of them, the fuckhead seems to have finally gotten the point. And it only took 22 days of being told the same thing over and over again. The last post to the thread was made at 24 Jan 05 - 01:53 PM. Of course, there is no guarantee that the dipshit won't refresh the thread because it appears that what he lacks in brilliance he makes up for in single-minded blinders-wearing persistence.

I was certain Rapierre either had a tentacle removed or flayed alive. (Hope you are nicely sedated and goggle eyed dear friend)

But wait now...What is this come to??? A chat room? We must have more BS!! This tripe is merely horseshit. Where is the BS? This is, afterall the MOAB thread not MOAHS!! Close up those ranks, rank those files, double time now...Huthuthhuthuthththtuthhtthut..

Naw, yer right, I never have allowed no horses in my living room neither. So this means you ar ein a superior location?Not sure I see the logic of that reaoning, especially when the weather and snow kind a makes it hard to leave, huh?

Minus bloody thirty and his LR is lined with last week's road apples!!Dang, who'd'a thunkit.